The Whispering Forest
by amazuppai
Summary: There are many stories about why one shouldn't ever enter the woods to the north, and while Tanuma does not pay much heed to these stories, he withholds his curiosity for his father's sake. That is, until he finds the cat.
1. The Whispering Forest

A little bit inspired by Over the Garden Wall and Mushi-shi, but mostly by my love for mysterious wood witches.

* * *

There are many stories about why one shouldn't ever enter the woods to the north, but Tanuma has never paid much heed to them. His father, especially, has warned him of the dangers of that place, told him of the mysteries and demons hidden within its depths, and while he generally listens to his father on principle, this is one thing that he has trouble believing. He once heard from a traveller that _ghosts, when examined closely, are all withered flowers_ , and while he certainly believes in demons and spirits (for how could he not, while they haunt his dreams and flit on the edges of his vision), the woods have always felt safe to him.

Sometimes he imagines what it would be like to walk through there, to wander beneath the tall green trees and dappled sunlight and to discover, maybe, what is in there that the villagers are so afraid of. He is curious, but his father's will holds him back; everybody follows the advice of the priest, him moreso than others, and he knows that his father only has Tanuma's safety in heart.

That is, until he finds the cat.

It's not the first cat he's seen – some of the villagers kept a few as pets, though it has been a year or two since the last one – but this one seems fundamentally different, somehow. It's not one of the lithe, nimble cats he has seen before; it's thick and round like a domestic pig with shorter legs, but it has the same calico markings that one of the farmer's cats had when he was little, white with scores of vibrant orange and smoky grey. Its eyes are something different, watching as he passes beneath the wall of the house it is perched upon with thin slits that send chills down his spine, and it is not until he reaches the end of the street that he realises it is the same chill he gets when he catches glimpses of the shadows, usually followed by headaches or illness or something bad happening to someone near him.

He whirls back around to face it, and he could swear that the cat _smiles_ , jumping down from the roof and running back up the path he had just come down, and before he can stop to think about it Tanuma is following along behind it, jogging to keep up with it as it runs up past the fields and past his house and off into the woods beyond the village. He eventually loses track of it, the fat white shape ducking under a bush and disappearing entirely, and he stops to catch his breath as he tries to listen for signs of it, a rustle in the underbrush or birds parting in its wake, but there is nothing, and it is then that he realises his mistake.

It is darker here than he imagined, but that is most likely due to the sun having already begun to set when he left the house and the canopy much denser here than at the edges. The trees themselves seem to whisper, rustling above and around him despite there being little wind this deep inside, and it sets him on edge more than the cat had. He doesn't know which way he had come in from – he'd been too focused on following the beast, which was probably its plan, now that he thinks about it – and it is already getting too dark to follow the sun's direction back home. He can't follow the stars, either, not with the leaves as thick as they are and obscuring his view of the sky, but he can't stay here, so he begins to walk, turning in a direction he hopes is southward and praying to whoever is listening that the rumours aren't true.

The darkness becomes complete within half an hour, barely even moonlight filtering through to light the way as he traipses, by this point, entirely aimlessly through the woods. It has gotten much colder now without the warmth of the sun and the soil seeming to greedily absorb whatever heat was left, and he begins to worry more about shelter than finding his way home, but it's only a passing dream. He has been here for hours and has seen little that could provide enough cover to protect him until morning.

He is just beginning to figure that it's hopeless, that he is going to be wandering here until he finally collapses of exhaustion, when a trickle of wind carries the faint smell of smoke to him. It is not the smoke of a wood fire, sharper somehow, more defined, like the steam that rises from a teacup, and he finds himself drawn to it (though it would probably be the logical direction to take regardless), following the scent through the woodland until he glimpses a faint orange glow through the trees, and then he follows his sight instead. He comes to find a squat little house, seeming at first out of place among the trees but, on second glance, looking no more abstract than the woods themselves, the glow coming from a small window through which filters the light of a hearth. It is still far from where he should be, but he is running out of options, and he is not one to ignore a blessing when he finds it.

He is nervous as he steps up to the door, raising a hand – trembling, from both the cold and anxiety – to the worn wood of the door to knock, counting the seconds afterward, _no more than twenty until you turn and leave_ , and after four he hears movement inside, nine a muffled voice, twelve and the door is pulled open to reveal a man probably no older than he is, silhouetted by the glow from inside. Sharp brown eyes look him over, a brief flicker down and back up, and then he is being ushered inside, "Come in, you must be freezing," and before he knows it the man is fussing about him and sitting him down in front of the fireplace, darting off momentarily before returning with a thick woven blanket.

Tanuma takes a moment, while whoever it is steps into another room to prepare tea, to investigate his surroundings, the shelves around the walls lined with strange bottles, some large and some small, transparent or opaque and filled with ground herbs or small branches or preserved pieces of _something_ , he doesn't recognise most of it. He spots a large, worn pot sitting by the fireplace, a few smaller ones hanging from hooks above it, and it is now that he begins to notice the smaller things, the skull of a crow resting between jars on the shelves, a necklace strewn with feathers and beads hung on the corner.

"I'm sorry," he says once the man has returned with two steaming cups of tea, the smell strong and sharp in his nose, "For imposing."

The man only smiles, setting his cup down with a gentle tap. "It's alright," he replies, "These woods aren't kind to strangers. It's lucky that you found me." There is an awkward pause, heavy with curiosity as Tanuma stares fixedly at the leaves in his cup, and then he is asked, "Why did you come here? Are you a traveller?"

He'd expected it, almost, and he still cannot think of an appropriate response. "No," he answers, frowning to himself, "I live in the village south of here."

The man's eyes widen a little, then narrow in confusion. "I thought the villagers never came here."

"We are told not to, yes, and most people follow it, but..." He pauses here, unsure of whether or not to mention the beast that led him here, but figures this stranger probably knows the workings of these woods far better than he does. "I believe I was lured here," he says, averting his eyes. "There was this strange cat in the village, and I... I guess I felt this need to follow it, and it led me pretty deep into the woods before it disappeared. I've been trying to get back home since."

Tanuma looks up when the man sighs, heavy and irritated, and does not understand the meaning behind it. "He's always off doing weird things," he mutters, closing his eyes as if in prayer for a moment, then gives Tanuma an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about him. I'm not sure if he saw something in you or was just messing with you, but he really needs to learn some manners. And that he needs to talk to me before he brings people here!" He shouts the last bit, seemingly talking to somebody else in the house, and then Tanuma hears a heavy _thump_ before a large white cat comes padding in from the other room, settling itself in the man's lap and letting out a small purr. "This is Sensei," he says, gesturing meekly to the cat. "And again, I'm sorry for him leading you astray."

"Sensei?" Tanuma asks, pulling his eyes from the fat lump of fur to the warm brown of the other man's eyes. "He's your... teacher?"

"Something like that," he replies with a shrug, then stops, puts a hand to his mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry, I never even introduced myself. I think your people call me Natsume?"

He has heard that before, but he can't remember where. One of his father's stories, a tale of the river and the cicadas in the reeds. "The Summer Eye," he realises, and Natsume smiles. "That's you?"

"Yeah," he says, looking away as if he's embarrassed. "Sensei likes to play in the river near the village during the summer, and I have to disguise myself whenever I leave here, so the few who have seen me have dubbed me as such. I rather liked the moniker."

"You make me sound like some meadow-frolicking pansy," the cat says, and Tanuma stops dead, staring at it in awe and a little bit of fear, but Natsume just laughs like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"Come on, don't think that you're not. Just the other day you ran off chasing a grasshopper."

"What is that thing?" Tanuma asks before the cat can rebuke, unable to hold back his astonishment.

Natsume considers this for a moment, his fingers absently brushing Sensei's fur as he thinks of how best to answer. "Sensei is... not something humans know very much about," he begins, and his face shifts to something melancholy, something Tanuma does not understand. "There are beings in this world that do not belong to the plane of the living, but they can sometimes interact with it, and there are some that are able to perceive them. They are what you would probably refer to as spirits or demons, creatures that haunt the edges of the human world."

"Shadows at the edges of your vision," Tanuma murmurs, connecting the dots, _finally_. Natsume gives him a quizzical look, almost hopeful but mostly confused. "These... spirits. You say some people are able to perceive them, but how clearly?"

Natsume chews at his lip, looking down at the cat as if afraid to meet his gaze. "Some can see them as clear as any animal," he says quietly, "While there are others who can only catch glimpses, flickers of movement or whispers of their voices. Some are able to sense their presence, but not see them at all. Others still can interact with them, but are unable to see or feel them." There is another heavy pause, and then the man looks back up to him, something glinting in his eyes. "Pardon me if I'm wrong, but can you…?"

"See them?" Tanuma finishes, then reluctantly shakes his head. "Not really. Sometimes I think I can feel them, or I catch glimpses of vague shapes, but it's never much, and I hadn't really considered what it could be until now. My father tells me it could be demons, but not all of them feel malicious."

"Not all of them are, but it does not change the fact that you should be wary. I must sound like a stereotype, but it is best to err on the side of caution when it comes to these spirits. Many have ill intentions."

Tanuma ruminates over that for a time, watching the way that Natsume's hands absently play through Sensei's fur. "If I may," he begins, brown eyes flicking up to his, "What do you do out here? I mean, you're… human, right?"

Natsume gives a small chuckle, as if at some private joke. "Yes, I am. I was sent out here when I was very young, because I have a tendency to attract the spirits and, therefore, often attracted their mischief. This place has always been home to them, so it was a fitting place for me."

The cat jumps from his lap as Tanuma ponders the idea of living amongst spirits, watching as it walks off until it is out of sight. "Hold on," he says, frowning, "You were sent?"

He has touched on something saddening, he realises too late; Natsume's expressions shifts, gloom passing over him and weighing his shoulders. "My village was… kind, but suspicious. They did not take well to a child speaking of creatures they couldn't see and bad luck befalling them because of it."

Tanuma tries to imagine it, his village shaming and rejecting him for seeing these things, and finds his envisagement far inferior to what it must really have been like. "I'm sorry," he says, for he has little else to say to that, but Natsume only smiles and shakes his head.

"It's done," he tells Tanuma, "And I am far better for it. This place is more home to me than the village ever could be." Tanuma knows what that is like; he had lived in another place before this village, and they had always given him strange looks when he said he saw shadows, though they would never have said anything to the priest's son directly. His father had known, though, and had moved away from his home of many years to bring them here, and they are far happier now.

"I'm sorry," Natsume says suddenly, bringing him out of his reverie, and Tanuma realises that he had lost focus. "You must be tired. The things in these woods often draw energy from people, so the few visitors we get are usually left worse for wear. Please excuse me, and I'll prepare some bedding."

 _I don't want to impose_ , he goes to say, but he understands Natsume's hospitality, and he still does not have a way out of the forest, so he simply nods and thanks him as Natsume heads to another section of the house. There is a bed already prepared on the floor of the room, either by fortunate coincidence or some strange magic, and Natsume leaves him with it as he steps out again, ever-busy and keen to assist, returning moments later with the cat in his arms. "I hope this is okay," he says to Tanuma, who is standing dumbfounded in the middle of the room. Natsume looks so genuinely concerned about his level of hospitality that Tanuma wouldn't say no even if it was a little bit true.

"It's perfectly alright," Tanuma tells him, giving a slight bow. "Thank you. I appreciate you taking me in like this."

Natsume smiles, but it is one of those smiles that is more wistful than anything else. "Trust me," he says quietly, and Tanuma senses fear in his voice, "I wouldn't wish anyone to be stuck out there at night."

It's such an ominous statement, Tanuma can't help but wonder what's out there, what might be lurking in the places he couldn't see, what might have happened to him if he hadn't found this place. It is an unnerving thought to have, but when Natsume leaves him alone to rest, he finds himself hard-pressed to care too much, his exhaustion and the scent of whatever incense was burning in this room putting him to sleep far quicker than he feels he has ever slept before.

He dreams of witnessing a parade of spirits, clad in white robes and singing tales of the deity they carry on their shoulders. The procession stops in front of the curious Tanuma, lowering the podium they carry to the ground; he watches the deity rise in one smooth motion, flowing lavender robes and a great crown of peonies falling from its horns, and he watches as it steps towards him, three gentle strides until it stands before him. Tanuma looks upon it in awe, frozen as the deity reaches a hand up, and it lifts its mask to reveal Natsume's gentle face beneath, smiling warmly at him beneath the scent of blossoms, and it is not until Tanuma wakes that he realises Natsume had been saying something to him.

"Ah," he hears once he has wandered from the bedroom to the main room, spotting Natsume over the table in the kitchen, either preparing breakfast or some strange spell. "Good morning. I trust you slept well?"

Tanuma's mind flickers over the images from his dream, Natsume's face between a sea of white masks. "Yes," he replies, "Thank you. I appreciate your hospitality, but I should really head back to the village; my father will be worried."

"Oh!" he exclaims, "Right, my apologies, um." He pauses, looking around at the sprawl of ingredients on the table, then sheepishly back up at Tanuma. "Breakfast is nearly finished, so we can eat and then I'll escort you back, if that's alright?"

"I'd like that," he replies, and Natsume smiles.

It's not the most conventional meal he's ever had, the stew filled with meats and herbs that he's mostly unfamiliar with, but it is incredibly delicious and he makes a point to mention as such, to which the cat replies that it's not the best he's ever made and Natsume gives it a scolding. It's strangely domestic, having breakfast conversation with a spirit-seer and his cat inside forbidden woods, but he finds he rather enjoys it.

"I would love to stay," he tells Natsume, once the meal is done and he is helping clear the table, the cat watching from its position on the windowsill, "But I don't wish to worry my father any further."

"I understand," Natsume replies, but it is quiet, despondent. He glances up, meeting Tanuma's gaze with the gentle smile he is quickly growing to love. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Natsume tells the cat to stay put, to which it replies that it will do what it wants, and then they are on their way, back through the woods in a direction that Tanuma has trouble discerning. He tries to see this place as Natsume does, walking beneath the vast canopies, shadows flickering between the trunks and making him wonder what exactly is out there, what it is that keeps Natsume here. He watches with curiosity as Natsume takes out a small piece of cloth, unfolding it and reaching up to tie it around his head, and once Tanuma catches sight of the simple black character painted on the front, he finally understands the moniker in full. Natsume catches his eyes beneath the mask and smiles knowingly, and Tanuma can only smile in return.

They stop at the edge of the forest, houses from the village just visible through the trees before them, and Tanuma breathes a sigh of relief at seeing the familiar buildings. "This is where we part," Natsume tells him, eyes hidden beneath the mask as he gazes at the village. "I have… very much enjoyed your company, Tanuma, as accidental as it was for you."

Natsume holds out his hand with a smile, and Tanuma takes it, his skin warm like the summer. "So have I," he agrees, "Despite the suddenness of it. Thank you." They pause then, each looking at the other, before Tanuma broaches the subject that he has been so nervous about all morning. "May I… Is it possible to see you again?"

Natsume smiles like Tanuma has just handed him the world. "You may visit whenever you like," he says, "If you promise to keep it secret. I can't have people knowing I'm there and wandering in uneducated. Here," he adds, as though he had just remembered, reaching into his robes and pulling out a single, long-stemmed peony. "This will guide you," he explains, "So long as you let it."

Tanuma takes it gingerly between his fingers, and it may just be his imagination, but he could swear his skin tingles where it comes into contact. "Won't it wilt?" he asks, but Natsume only taps the side of his nose, and somehow Tanuma understands.

"Go," Natsume says, gesturing forward. "I'm sure I'll see you again." Tanuma gives him a sincere, thankful smile, then turns to head back towards the village, glad to finally be home yet somehow feeling a little disappointed. When he glances behind him, Natsume is already gone; Tanuma twirls the peony between his fingers, watching the petals dance with the motion, the same as those on the deity's crown, and believes that he will definitely return sometime.


	2. The Eyes of the Storm

**A/N:** I wanted to write something more for this AU, because I am quite fond of it, but at this point I feel like I'm just drabbling. Not as proud of this one as I am of the first, but that's just the way of these things.

'Fubuki' simply translates to 'snowstorm'.

* * *

There are many days where Tanuma would sit in his room at home, staring at the wide pink flower on his shelf and ruminating on what has been, remembering pale hair and eyes like glistening redwood. He has heard nothing of Natsume since he had been lost some weeks ago, but he had heard nothing of Natsume beforehand, either; he has spent this time pondering the risk of him returning, of the hope in Natsume's eyes when he had said he would, the reticence in his father's when he warned Tanuma of those woods. He had felt it when he was there, the feeling of not quite being alone and the unsettled cold in his gut, but it is far outweighed in his mind by the warmth and radiance of Natsume in his little house in the woods, and Tanuma had, after all, made a promise.

He is not sure where to start when he first goes back to the woods, peony clasped in his hand and the village growing further away behind him, Natsume's words playing through his mind, until he eventually gives up on trying to understand it and simply walks, following whichever direction he feels is right while trying to keep his mind clear, his fingers brushing along the smooth stem of the flower as he goes. He keeps catching whiffs of the smell of it, potent and bright in his senses, and then he begins to smell it in the air, too, growing subtly stronger until he catches the herbal smell of Natsume's home.

It is the same as he remembers it, the wide dusty house sitting in the clearing with smoke rising from its bowels, gardens planted around its edges with sprouts both old and new. Tanuma is not sure what to do with himself now that he's here, the chance of Natsume not even being home finally occurring to him, but then he hears voices from the other side of the house and follows them around, coming to find gardening equipment and herb trimmings rolled on cloth at the back corner of the house.

The cat is the first to greet him, sitting lumped on one of the large flat stones around the garden, its ear twitching and eyes opening to slits as Tanuma approaches. "Well, this is a surprise," it says, but Tanuma gets the feeling that it definitely isn't.

"What is?" he hears from around the corner of the house, and then Natsume steps into view, face flushed and eyes widening in shock, before shifting to radiant joy. "Oh, Tanuma!" he exclaims, setting down whatever gardening tool he'd just been using. "It's nice to see you again. I didn't think… Um, how are you doing?"

Tanuma feels like he has to try not to be hurt by the fact that Natsume hadn't expected him to come back, but he had almost decided against coming, and Natsume has been alone here for a very long time. "I'm doing fine," he replies, even offering the cat a brief wave of greeting (which is, unsurprisingly, promptly ignored). "I didn't get in too much trouble for getting lost in the woods, at least."

"That's good," Natsume says, anxiously wiping the dirt from his hands, "I'm glad to hear. I'm glad you got here alright, too. I was worried that you wouldn't understand the instructions."

Tanuma glances down to the peony he's still holding, and finds a strange sense of embarrassment about it. "Well, they were pretty vague," he jokes lamely, but at least Natsume laughs.

"I'm sorry, they tend not to work if I give them a clear set of rules. You did well." Tanuma smiles, and then there is a long pause, neither of them quite sure where to go from here. "Would you… like me to fetch you some tea?" Natsume finally offers, and Tanuma is quick to decline.

"No, no, it's alright," he insists, "You look like you're in the middle something, and I have come by unannounced. Maybe I can offer a hand?"

Natsume hums in thought, looking back down at his half-formed herb garden and the dirt all over his clothes. "Are you any good at planting?" he asks with a nervous smile, and Tanuma almost laughs. He doesn't work the fields for nothing, after all.

They spend hours digging and planting and fertilising, Natsume teaching Tanuma about the herbs he's never seen before and which ones are best for what seasons, until they finish for the day and Natsume brings him inside for a meal, sitting amongst hastily cleared space at Natsume's table with another strange yet satisfying platter. Tanuma can't help but notice, now that he's paying more attention, that he has not seen a single peony bush here, and he wonders terribly where it came from, but he's too afraid to ask.

"I should head back," he realises later, just as the sky is beginning to burn orange and the tea leaves are drying at the bottom of his cup. "My father will begin to wonder."

"Oh," Natsume breathes, looking to the window and frowning, as though he had lost track of the time entirely. Tanuma feels bad for cutting their time short again. "I see. Would you like me to walk you back? It's nearly dark, and it gets dangerous here at night."

Tanuma considers declining, as he usually would when people offer favours, but he feels he might be doing Natsume a favour by accepting; he seems particularly concerned by the woods at night, and if Tanuma left alone it would probably worry him more. "If you wouldn't mind?" he replies, absently touching the peony he has slipped into his shirt for now. "I haven't made the trip back on my own yet, after all."

"It's not that hard, with that thing to guide you," Sensei mutters, and Natsume gently shushes him.

"It's quite alright," he emphasises, "I'm happy to lead you back. He doesn't have to come if he doesn't want to."

The cat mutters something under its breath that sounds like it's supposed to be quite rude, and then Natsume is leading Tanuma back south through the woods, dusk instead of dawn but filling Tanuma with wonder just the same. He watches Natsume out of the corner of his eye, moving through the forest as though he is an extension of its body and not a visitor in its girth, smiling at translucent patches of air and stepping over things that Tanuma does not notice until he looks back and sees a rustle in the leaves of the underbrush. It must be incredible, he thinks, being so much a part of this thing that it is almost perfectly harmonious, and he tries not to let jealously touch him.

He knows when they are getting close to the edge of the woods because Natsume disguises himself once again, tying the paper mask around his head despite it being dark already, and this time Tanuma notices that he's nervous, though he can't place what exactly he'd be nervous about. Perhaps it is of being seen by the villagers, or discovered for what he is, or getting Tanuma caught and not being able to see him again, but without know what it is Tanuma cannot properly comfort him for it; he can only smile and place a gentle hand on Natsume's shoulder, thanking him greatly for letting Tanuma come and for seeing him back.

"Feel free to return any time," Natsume says, trying not to let his smile seem too hopeful or reticent. "I'll know when you're nearby."

Tanuma doesn't need to ask how he'll know; he has always suspected that Natsume is far more perceptive than he seems. "Thank you," he says again, "I'd be glad to," and then he is reluctantly turning back towards the village. This time when he turns back to look, Natsume is still there, and offers him a wave before they both head back for their homes.

Tanuma begins to make a habit of visiting Natsume in his free time, heading into the woods with his flower guide whenever he has a day free and spending that time with Natsume and his cat. Sometimes he will take his time walking to and from the village, slipping the talisman away and trying to find his own way there, but every time he feels like he knows the way, he finds himself getting lost and digging out the peony regardless, and it is still something he doesn't understand; the woods feel the same as usual when he enters, but somewhere along the way he realises that they are not the same at all and he is in an entirely different part of them. He asks Natsume about it once, and all he has to say is, "They like to play tricks on you," and Tanuma feels like the unwitting butt of a very strange joke.

Natsume always warns him of the dangers of these woods, but he is yet to experience any harm from them. He knows that the spirits are there, is able to recognise the signs of their presence and can glimpse the shadows and blurs now that he knows what to look for, but none of them have shown him any malevolence so far. The worst they've done is get him a little turned around on his way to and from the village, but he knows better than to question Natsume's warnings, and even the warnings of his father, whom he has still not yet told of his ventures here.

Tanuma would like to tell him of where he goes in his free days, but he is scared of what he might think, of it getting out to the villagers or his father forbidding him from going. As such a prominent priest for their village and those surrounding it, finding out that his son has been speaking with a spirit seer and learning about demons would be the end of his career, and Tanuma couldn't stand to be the cause of something like that, so he keeps his mouth resolutely shut, sneaking away when their backs are turned and keeping his closest friend a secret.

"Where do you go?" his father asks him once, the topic of Tanuma's disappearances coming up over dinner that night after his father had returned from a three-day trip to the south. "The others tell me that you are always missing on your days off."

Tanuma doesn't want to lie to his father, but he cannot tell him the truth. Not yet. "Many places," he says, because it is more omission than anything else. "I've found there's a lot to explore in these mountains."

He is nervous about what his father will say to that, how he feels about Tanuma supposedly exploring the mountains on his own, but he only sits back and smiles. "Who knew you had a spirit of adventure?" he wonders, and Tanuma silently muses on the irony of that. "As long as you're being careful, I suppose, and not pushing yourself too far." It is as much as he can promise without giving it all away, so he swears he is being cautious and his father is satisfied. It isn't much, but it at least makes Tanuma feel a little better about it.

He travels less once winter hits and the snow begins to fall, because he works more often in the fields to help keep their crops going and because he is ill, more often than not; he is usually unwell this time of year regardless, and being close to spirits always makes it worse. The few trips he does make always leave him feeling drained and sick for days, but it is worth it for the time he spends with Natsume.

He can't help thinking that the woods feel different this time of year, though, darker and closer around him even with the trees stripped bare and the sunlight reflecting off the snow, foreboding in a way that he could never feel comfortable with. There is a cold wind that rips through the trees, rustling in the branches like voices, making the trees seem more alive than ever. "Child of man," they whisper, "A human, a human," and Tanuma realises with a growing sense of dread that it is not the trees at all.

He can see them now, weaving between the skeleton bones of the forest like wisps of snow, too indistinct for him to count or identify. They are all around him, whispering to each other in the voices of the wind, drawing in around him and building panic in his gut. "A human," they chant, "A human, a human! They come, they come, this child of man," rising and swirling and dancing around him, and he can do nothing but watch as they close in around him, their flurries brushing over his arms and picking at his hair.

"Please," he says, trying desperately to remember what Natsume had taught him to do. "I am only passing through. Allow me passage and I shall grant you a boon."

"A boon!" they hiss, and there is a whistle in his ears as the wind picks up around him. He squints his eyes against the bite of it. "A boon? We require no boon, no boon, young child of man. We will take what is ours."

They erupt into chorus of "Take them, take them!", gales of snow and biting wind swirling around him, tearing at his skin, closer and closer until he can't see and he can't move and he all he knows is the white noise of the spirits, still howling in his ears, and then he doesn't know anything at all.

* * *

"That's strange," Natsume muses, setting down his pestle and looking to the window. Sensei makes an inquisitive sound from his perch on the counter beside him, an ear twitching. "Tanuma was on his way here, but now I can't seem to feel him."

Sensei scoffs, lowering his head and closing his eyes. "He's probably gotten himself into trouble," he mutters, and Natsume freezes. "They do like to pick on him, but they're especially violent this time of year. He probably ran into the wrong ones."

No, Natsume thinks, suddenly breathless and shaky, No, it can't be, but he knows. He probably knew the moment he lost touch with Tanuma, thinking back to the strange tug in his perception; something has happened to Tanuma, and he has to do something about it.

"Where are you going?" Sensei barks, jumping to his feet as Natsume drops the mortar and darts out of the room, leaping from the counter to follow him out.

"I have to find him," Natsume breathes, tearing his coat from its rack and pausing only to remember which direction he had last felt Tanuma's presence. East. "Come on."

"Leave me out of this!" Sensei snaps back, but he comes along regardless, following Natsume through the bare woods with as much speed as they can get, countless scenarios churning through Natsume's mind as he runs; he's lost, he's been stolen, he's hurt, he's dead. Tanuma would not be the first casualty of this forest, and Natsume only wishes that he was able to refuse considering that he'd be another.

He follows his memory of Tanuma until he finds himself at a standstill, unable to follow it any further and unable to spot anything useful, and focuses instead on the talisman, weak without the power of another but just strong enough for him to find. It is not too far from where he lost the trail, and he comes to find it half-buried in the open snow, glimpses of bright pink contrasting the mono-chromaticism of the woods. "Maybe he dropped it," Sensei offers, toddling up beside him as Natsume crouches before the flower, but they both know that Tanuma would never be so careless.

"The snow here is loose and unsettled," Natsume notices, looking around for signs of whatever had done this. "As though there was a recent storm, but we haven't had any snowfall for several days." He brushes his hand over the sunken peony, fingers gently sweeping dusted snow from the petals, and he catches a glimpse of whistling, of soaring over mountains and zipping between trees, and he understands now what has happened.

"Fubuki," Sensei says, mirroring his conclusion, and Natsume nods. At least he knows that Tanuma won't be dead quite yet, but he doesn't have much time to find him, especially depending on how many of the spirits there are. "I know where the hollow is," Sensei offers, and Natsume is infinitely glad that he does.

* * *

It is cold when he wakes up, colder than he feels he has ever been in his life, and he opens his eyes to discover that it is not only that, but incredibly dark. He tries to sit himself up, struggling with the stiffness of his body and the mind-numbing headache currently grating away at his skull, but he eventually brings himself to an upright position and begins to feel around for anything useful. He isn't near any trees or walls, and the ground beneath him seems to be stone, dusty and worn, but that is about all he can find. He needs to find his way out of here, back home or to Natsume's, but he worries that even if he could see, even if he knew where he was, he wouldn't be able to make it back such a condition. He has never been close to freezing to death before, but living in the mountains as he does, he has heard plenty of stories of those who have, and he is sure he's well on his way.

He is just about to begin feeling his way across the floor when he catches sight of a soft light in front of him, pale blue and with no discernible source, seeming to come from a spot just above the ground a few feet before him. He's not sure where it came from, or if it had been there the whole time, and just as he begins to ponder the strangeness of it another one appears to its left, and another to the left of that, growing in number until there is a full circle of strange glowing spots around him (he counts twelve as they appear, but he is not sure how accurate that is, his mind addled and unfocused). They illuminate enough of the area for him to see, revealing that he is in a wide cave with a ceiling several feet above standing height and walls too far away to see in the dim light.

"Awake," he hears the lights whisper, the word flickering between them in chorus; there is a chill that blows every time they speak, a cold bite in his skin without the wind that gives it. He almost considers himself lucky that is already too cold to feel it properly.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks them, his lips trembling around the words and fear setting deeper the longer he is here.

"The summer," they moan back, "Oh, the summer! You smell of it, the summer, and oh, we hate it so, the summer, the summer."

Tanuma finally remembers what these are, remembers Natsume telling him of them when warning him of the ways that the woods changed with the seasons; spirits who were born of frozen bodies that appeared during the winter, harbouring a hatred and jealousy for any kind of warmth. He would try to plead with them, to reason with them into letting him go, but he has nothing to hold against them, no leverage here whatsoever, and he is at a sore loss as to what he should do. "Why?" he asks, in lieu of anything else to say, "Why do you hate it?"

"It burns," they cry, Tanuma quickly realising that he has said the wrong thing, "It burns! It burns!", and the wind picks up again as they wail, their anger and frustration tearing away at him, throwing dirt in his eyes and sucking the little warmth he has left from him. There is nothing he can do here, no way he can save himself; he can only sit there and cover his eyes and try desperately to think of something, anything, before they tear him apart in rage.

"Tanuma!" he hears over the gale of their voices, and he turns to squint through the dust just as there is a bright flash of blue, and the spirits scream and the wind dies down and it is suddenly very, very quiet. "Tanuma," he hears again, footsteps coming towards him, and Tanuma finally places who the voice belongs to.

"Natsume," he breathes, just as Natsume crouches down beside him. At first he's confused as to why he's able to see, since it had been so dark just seconds ago, before he realises that the cave is nowhere near as big as he'd thought and there is still sunlight filling the entrance; they must have been creating the illusion of it being much bigger. "Natsume," he says again, "I'm sorry," and he wishes he could say more, wishes he could think straight enough to offer something better, but that will have to be enough.

Natsume sighs with heavy relief, but he does not smile, vast concern still filling his features. "It's not your fault," he murmurs, laying a gentle hand on Tanuma's shoulder. "Come on, we need to get you home."

"I can't–" Tanuma begins to say, because he is cold and he is tired and he cannot make it that far, cannot make it to his feet, cannot stay awake long enough to apologise or to thank him or to explain himself or to tell him, truthfully, just how grateful he is.

Tanuma finds himself at home when he next wakes up, which doesn't seem strange until he remembers where he'd been, what had happened. He can still feel the chill, deep down in his bones, but he is home and he is safe and he is warm, warmer than he has been in what feels like an age. He is in his room, a single candle burning on his dresser (there is something odd about it, he thinks, but he can't place what) casting the otherwise dark room in flickering orange light, too reminiscent of the gloomy hues of the spirits for him to feel quite comfortable. His wrist itches strangely, Tanuma glancing down to find ink on his arm, one of his father's protective charms painted on his skin, and he smiles. He is safe here.

In thinking of his father, though, Tanuma realises how worried he must be and is suddenly filled with shame; he is not sure in what condition he'd returned, but for his father to have given him a charm like this, it must have been enough to warrant extreme concern, and he feels awful for worrying his father so. Now that he is awake he should find him and apologise, try to make it up to him, so Tanuma rises from his bed and takes the candle with him into the hallway, heading for the prayer room where his father is most likely to be; it turns out he is right, spotting the glow of lamplight through the open doors of the room (they are never closed, for it is bad luck to seal the energy of this place) and stepping around the corner to find his father sat cross-legged on the floor in prayer.

"Kaname," his father says in surprise, rising from the floor even though Tanuma feels like he had not given himself away. "It's good to see you awake," he sighs, giving Tanuma brief hug, wary of the candle in his hand, before stepping back and holding him by the shoulders, looking him over. "Are you alright?"

Tanuma isn't sure how to answer. He doesn't want to give Natsume away, but he feels he has little choice, now. "Yes," he replies carefully, "I'm okay. I'm sorry for worrying you."

"As long as you're safe," his father tells him, giving him a brief smile before returning to concern. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Yes, Tanuma thinks, because oh, how he wishes he could, but he couldn't do that to Natsume. Not after all this. He chews at his lip, trying to think of something to say to assuage his father's concerns without lying to him, until his father sighs and lets him go. "I understand," he says, making Tanuma awfully confused. "You weren't conscious when you arrived, so you probably wouldn't be aware, but a spirit of the woods is the one that brought you here. I imagine you're wanting to protect its privacy here."

Tanuma wonders what he means by that, until he remembers Natsume's disguise. "It did?" he asks, shocked by the fact that Natsume had let himself be seen, by the priest of all people, just for the sake of bringing Tanuma home safely. "Did it say anything to you?"

"Oh yes," his father replies, nerves churning in Tanuma's gut. "It was very kind. It told me of your condition, gave me something to help you with the recovery, and asked me to tell you not to return to those woods. Which, I believe, you should not have been in to begin with."

Not to return. It is not his father that has forbidden him, but Natsume, and he knows that there is no trespassing on the will of the spirit seer. His greatest friend has now locked him out, and Tanuma only has himself to blame. "I'm sorry," he says to his father, because he has to say something, but strangely enough his father only waves it away.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You may have defied my warnings, but I believe you were being careful about it. This is not the first time you have entered there, is it?" At first Tanuma is so shocked by the calm manner in which the question is given that he can only stare, wide-eyed and anxious, and give a slight shake of his head. "I thought so," his father sighs, but there is the touch of a smile on his face. "That spirit seemed quite fond of you, moreso than a stranger would. I'm not surprised that you've made friends with it."

"I'm not so sure," Tanuma mutters, his sluggish mind trying to work through all the implications of this turn of events.

His father rests a hand on his shoulder, doing his best to comfort him. "Trust me," he says, "It still wishes to be friends with you. It only has your safety and best interests at heart."

Tanuma sighs, desperately wishing that he had something more to offer, something more to do to try and solve this problem he's created. "I just wish I could tell him that it's not his fault," he murmurs, too worn out and caught up with it all to notice just how much he is giving away. He knows he can trust his father regardless.

His father smiles, having little else to offer for things like this but trying his best despite it. Tanuma loves him a little more for it. "Have faith in him," he tells Tanuma, "And give him a little time. True friends will always come around eventually."

Tanuma keeps these words with him over the following months, recalling them every time he looks to the woods with longing and considers entering them on his own; he trusts in Natsume's judgement, and will see him again if he wills it. He thinks about it less often as the seasons pass, winter warming into spring and back around to summer, but it still weighs on his mind, the knowledge of what is so close to him but is still entirely unreachable niggling endlessly at him.

It is not until the summer that he hears of Natsume again, just as the days are beginning to grow hot and the cicadas are finding their voices. He is taking his break from working in the village fields when one of the others returns from a water run, looking a little wide-eyed and awed. "I've seen him," she whispers when they ask her what's wrong, "Down by the river," and this catches Tanuma's attention more than most other stories he is told here. "The eye of the summer is back."

"It's that time of year again," another sighs, "I can't believe it's another summer already. You should be careful going near the river."

If it were any other rumour Tanuma would take the advice to heart, but he knows the root of this one, knows that he needn't fear it as he would others, and he can only smile and nod in response to their warnings in fear of having to lie to them. He excuses himself from the others, heading back through town at a regular pace until he is out of sight before he breaks into a sprint, heading for the river downhill and hoping, praying that he's still there, that he will finally have a chance to talk to him.

Tanuma spots him just as he is coming over the bank through the trees, bright amongst the dark green of the woods and the clear water of the river, and he skids to a halt just as Natsume notices he is there, eyes widening in surprise and fear of what Tanuma will say, having not expected such a confrontation. "Oh," Natsume breathes, voice so quiet the wind almost takes it away. He takes a hesitant step backwards, his eyes flickering between Tanuma and the treeline. "Tanuma, I–"

"Natsume," Tanuma huffs back, still catching his breath from the run down here. "Just, wait a minute. Please." Natsume looks like he's still considering saying something, still considering leaving him alone here, but he stays nervously put and lets Tanuma speak. "Look," he begins, and he is not sure what he's saying, but he needs to say something here. "What happened before, it– It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault, really, it was the unavoidable circumstance of being involved with these things. I understand the dangers, now more than ever."

"Tanuma," he pleads, "I can't–" But he has nothing more to say, nothing to tell him that would assuage his thoughts on this. It doesn't stop Natsume from trying. "I can't risk you getting hurt again," he says quietly, as though it is his fault that Tanuma got hurt before, his fault that spirits live there. "The more often you are in those woods, the more likely it is that something like that will happen again."

"You've been there for years," Tanuma reminds him, and instantly regrets it as his words seem to strike a particular chord.

Natsume's mouth pulls into a grimace, averting his eyes to stare at the river beside them. "Not by choice," he mutters, "And not without consequence. I have had many incidents in the past which nearly got me killed. The difference between you and me, Tanuma, is that I can connect with them, can speak with them and reason with them and can use that ability to help myself out of those situations, and I have Sensei to help protect me. You don't." He pauses, sighs, looks back up at Tanuma with an apologetic look. "That… sounds quite rude, but it's the truth. You don't have the same kind of protection from them that I do, and it's not safe for you. It's barely safe enough for me, and… I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Natsume," he sighs, desperate to get his point across, "You can't protect people from everything. I could come down with illness or get crushed in rockfall or be attacked by a wild animal, and there is just as much risk of that whether I'm hanging out with spirits or not. I understand that it's a much bigger risk, but I'm aware of that, especially now. I'd like to keep being friends with you, Natsume, just… Just give me a chance."

A chance to what?, he is expecting Natsume to ask, and Tanuma dreads it because he doesn't quite know how to answer, but all he does is sigh and look down to the water, watching Sensei dab at fish from his perch on one of the river stones, before he finally looks back to Tanuma. "Alright," he mutters, Tanuma blinking back surprise. "Alright. Just… Be careful. I know you always are, but…"

"I know," Tanuma agrees, clasping Natsume's shoulder and trying not to smile too widely. "Thank you," he says, and it is the most sincere he feels he has ever sounded in his life.

Natsume heads back home afterward, leaving Tanuma to think it all over as he heads back to the fields to finish his day's work. It had not at all been what he'd planned to say if he saw Natsume again, but it worked, earning him another chance to be with his closest friend, and hopefully he doesn't ruin it by getting abducted by spirits this time. He has come to realise that there is little he can do in a situation like that, but, he hopes, it will be a rare occasion, and he should be quick to learn how to avoid the truly terrible ones.

His father is out when he returns home that afternoon, so Tanuma heads straight to his room to settle down after what feels like an incredibly long day, and he does not realise something is amiss until he goes to open his window, pausing and staring in awe; there, resting on the inside of his windowsill and bright in the sunlight, is a vibrantly coloured peony. Tanuma gingerly picks it up, catches the barest hint of the smell of wood fire and herbs, and he smiles, pressing the flower to his nose and breathing deep of the scent he has grown to love. "Thank you," he breathes into the petals, and it may be his imagination, but he is sure that they whisper back to him.


End file.
